


Sick People Should Stay Away from Balconies

by kkismygod



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin is a good boyfriend, Caretaker Anakin, F/M, Fluff, Head Cold, Playful Reader, Protective Anakin, Sickfic, Soft Anakin, Whump, he tries his best, sick reader, star wars prequals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkismygod/pseuds/kkismygod
Summary: Reader has a cold and Anakin does his best to take care of her despite the fact that she literally goes looking for trouble.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	Sick People Should Stay Away from Balconies

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be shy, leave a kudo ;)

You’ve never truly hated yourself until this moment. 

You’re a capable individual, you know this. Living in the Jedi’s world during an intergalactic war was no easy ride, and you’d come to adapt to their hectic way of life. Through trials and tribulations, no matter how dangerous, exhausting, or mentally scarring, you’d always managed to come out on top.

Except for now.

When you needed yourself the most, you really let yourself down. 

Colossal screwup, you cursed yourself as your sweaty hand slid off the top of the pill bottle once again. Your fingers were red and rubbed raw from the indents on the lid. Useless idiot.

The strain from trying to pry the lid off the pill bottle made your sinuses clog up and your headache worsen. You squinted your eyes, shielding them from the harsh fluorescent lights as you sat in the corner of the bathroom and struggled. 

For some reason, you had thought joining the Jedi on their quest to destroy the separatists and restore peace to the galaxy would come with a ‘never get sick’ card. You never saw Yoda take a day off for the sniffles. 

Alas; here you were, curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor, wrestling with a child-proof pill bottle. Anakin was just outside, probably listening to your failing attempt to self-medicate. You promised him you’d be back in a second, but it’s been more like 5 minutes and you were sure he’d barge in at any moment now.

“Y/n?” speak of the devil. “You okay in there?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth, tugging on the top once again. The directions said pull up and twist. That’s what you were doing, so why wasn’t it working?

“You need help with anything?”

You narrowed your eyes at his tone. He was holding back laughter. 

“No.”

“If you say so…”

You had about 20 seconds before he used his weird Jedi tricks to sneak his way past the locked door and find you in your pathetic predicament. Desperately, you attacked the lid-- twisting and turning, pushing and pulling. You balled up your shirt and used it for more grip, to no avail. Finally, as a last resort, you grabbed for the scissors you kept in the drawer under the sink. You raised it over your head and were just about to stab the bottle open with the blade when the door to the bathroom suddenly opened, and Anakin was catching your wrist in his hand. He gently took the scissors out of your grip, setting them on the counter out of reach.

“What did I tell you about playing with sharp objects while sick?”

You scrunched your face up, half-glaring at him and half wallowing in your own miserable embarrassment. You had hoped you could at least take some painkillers by yourself, to prove to Anakin that you weren’t some helpless little fawn while you were feeling under the weather, but of course the child safety measures had other plans. 

Anakin took the pill bottle from your stinging hands and twisted it open with ease. He shook a couple tablets out onto your waiting palm and then capped the bottle, setting it aside.

“See?” he handed a glass of water to you with a smirk. “Not so hard.”

“Can it, Skywalker,” you threw the pills back and sipped the water. The cold liquid soothed your aching throat. “I may be sick, but I can still kick your ass to Tatooine and back.”

“I’ll hold you to that, when you’re better I mean,” he took the empty glass from your grasp and set it back on the counter. Without skipping a beat, he bent down to wrap an arm under your shoulders, helping you to your feet. 

“Geez Ani, I’m sick, not crippled,” you groaned, sniffling as he led you back to bed. You ended up tripping on your discarded boot, and would have fallen flat on your face if he wasn’t holding you. He had the decency not to mention it. 

He brought you to your bed, helping you lay back against the pillows. You watched his face contort in concentration-- eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes narrowed-- as he focused on pulling the blankets up over you, smoothing down the edges, adjusting your pillows, trailing his fingers down the side of your face in between. You couldn’t help the blush on your cheeks as he held your chin delicately in his gloved hand, leaning down to place a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead. 

“You can always ask me for help you know.”

“I know,” you shrunk deeper under the covers, feeling squeamish under the intensity of his gaze.

“Is your throat still bothering you?”

You nodded, averting your eyes as you suddenly became bashful. It wasn’t just that you hated admitting to weakness-- it was also the fact that Anakin was so damn pretty, even up close, and he was fully using it against you. The boy had some wicked eye contact, and every time those dark blue eyes locked on you, you felt like melting. 

Anakin caressed your cheek with his thumb, no doubt noting the heat that pooled there. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a slight smile-- he knew what he was doing to you.

“I’ll go make you some tea.”

As soon as he left the room, you let out a long breath. It was meant to relieve some tension built up in your chest, but it really resulted in you hunched over in a coughing fit. You pressed your arm against your mouth, trying to muffle the awful barking sounds coming from your throat. Each cough felt like nails were dragging against the walls of your throat. Your forehead broke out in a sweat with the exertion, and the headache came back with a splitting furiosity.

Screw this, you decided, throwing off the covers and standing from the bed. Fresh air was just what your ailing body needed. 

You wobbled over to the balcony doors on weak legs, feeling like you could just collapse at the knees at any moment. Climbing onto the concrete wall of the balcony, you folded your legs criss-cross and watched the city lights twinkle before you. There was a cool breeze tonight and it did wonders to soothe your fever. This was possibly the best decision you had made since falling ill.

However, looking below you, there was at least a thousand feet between you and the ground. And no barrier stopping you from falling. 

Oh well, you thought to yourself. It’s not like anyone’s gonna push me. 

You sat on the balcony for a while, closing your eyes and breathing in the cold night air as you waited for Anakin to come back with the tea. It was very peaceful, and even the honking of impatient drivers in late night traffic was like a lullaby to your ears. Soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, your head falling forward as you slipped into unconsciousness.

“Force, Y/n, what are you doing on the ledge like that?!” Anakin’s voice ripped you out of your sleep. You startled, gripping onto the edge of the concrete as you blinked your eyes open to the millions of tiny city lights before you. You turned to see Anakin rushing toward you, floating the mug of tea he was holding away with the force. 

He tried wrapping his arms around you, but you squirmed out of his grasp.

“You can’t touch me, Anakin, you’ll get sick,” you mumbled drowsily. You yawned and rubbed your eye with a fist as he sputtered something about how you didn’t care about that before.

“Just come away from the ledge, Y/n, it’s not safe up there!”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself to unsteady feet slowly. “You worry too much,” you told him, turning around to face the city and opening your arms out wide. “See? I’m perfectly alri-- ah-- ah-- aaahh choo!”

The sneeze took you by surprise, and you pitched forward with the force it used to expel from your body. Suddenly you were too far over the edge of the balcony, and for a moment of heart-stopping terror you were falling…

… Until familiar strong arms caught you around the waist and pulled you back to the floor of the balcony. 

“You are a pain in my ass,” Anakin hissed, ushering you inside. He closed the doors to the balcony a little too hard with the force, holding you tightly all the way back to bed.

“Damn,” you croaked, letting him drop you back into bed and tuck the sheets even tighter around you, like a straightjacket that’ll stop you from escaping again. “I almost just died.”

“You wouldn’t have died,” Anakin huffed, turning his back to retrieve the tea he left on the dresser. “I wouldn’t let that happen. I, however, just had a mini heart attack.”

“Just a mini one?”

“Stop talking, you’ll only hurt your throat more.” The panic was slowly leaving his eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed. To calm you down or himself, you weren’t sure, but he began brushing your bangs out of your face as you sipped on the tea. 

You closed your eyes and let yourself melt into his touch, the soft tickling sensation of his hand grazing your forehead, the warm presence of him. You sniffled lightly, rubbing at your dripping yet somehow stuffed nose with your sleeve, hoping he would never stop carding his fingers through your hair. 

“You should rest,” Anakin took the mug from you after a moment and set it aside. He waved his gloved hand, and the lights in the room darkened so that the only thing casting light was the single candle burning on the bedside table. It flickered in the dark, casting shadows over Anakin’s face. 

Suddenly you felt his hand leave your face and his weight lift off the bed. Your heart dropped with the realization that he was leaving. Desperately, you reached for him before he could go too far, latching onto the hard metal of his gloved wrist.

“You can stay,” you told him quietly. Then you added, “Please.”

Anakin tilted his head thoughtfully, staring at you for a moment. You were glad it was dark so that he couldn’t see the colorful emotion staining your cheeks. It’s not like you two hadn’t slept in the same bed together-- you were dating, after all-- but showing affection never came easy to you. Neither did asking for help, or admitting weakness.

Anakin, to his credit, didn’t hesitate for very long. Gently, he got back into bed with you, this time snaking his arm under your head so that it would rest on the soft cushion of his bicep. You turned and curled into his chest, breathing in his scent. He always smelled like leather and metal and spices. Your favorite scent in the whole world now.

“How are you feeling now?” Anakin murmured as he rubbed your arm soothingly, cocooning you against his body in his own.

“Like shit,” you admitted truthfully, but burrowed your head deeper into his chest. “But this is nice.”

“I’m glad,” you could hear the smile in his voice. 

You loved his voice. Just like his smell, his voice was one of your favorite sounds in the world, coming second only to his laugh. You wanted to keep talking, to keep hearing it, but you found yourself being weighed down with a heavy exhaustion. The warmth coming from the blankets and emanating from Anakin was enough to cloud your mind with sleep, the steady drag of his hand against your arm a soothing distraction from the miserable sickness waging war inside your body. Before you could say another word to the love of your life, you passed out right in his arms.


End file.
